


As Real As A Nightmare

by drowsyfantasy



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Public Sex, Spoilers, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:36:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22460446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowsyfantasy/pseuds/drowsyfantasy
Summary: Wrathion obviously has more to do and say when he finally shows his face. N'zoth is right on his heels. Some content spoilers for patch 8.3.
Relationships: Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 5
Kudos: 89





	As Real As A Nightmare

He’s everything. He’s fucking Anduin on the _fucking throne of Stormwind_ , the human king on his back, moaning, knees flung over Wrathion’s shoulders as the black dragon fills him up and pins him mercilessly to the seat. Half the court is watching them, no doubt, but he doesn’t care. Anduin is all he sees, below him, underneath him, flushed and panting and so, so goddamn _pretty_ , big blue eyes and mussed-up golden hair and red, red down to his chest, under his robes. They’re not naked. They didn’t have time. Wrathion strode up the aisle and shoved him down and grabbed him by the knees. Magic did the rest, and as Anduin arches and moans his name, Wrathion kisses him. 

_You are mine, mine forever. I’m never letting you go, ever again._

He’s in the Chamber of Heart and Ebyssian - _Ebonhorn_ , his other name - and MOTHER and Ra-Den and the Speaker are all fighting off Black Empire minions and he’s trying to crack one of the nearest floating obelisks when suddenly tentacles erupt from under his clothes and rip the front of his shirts and coats open, exposing his chest to the room. That’s only the beginning, though, as he feels them wrap around his wrists, yanking him back, slamming him into an obelisk and with his back to it, he’s pinned, helpless, thrashing and writhing to get free. 

The tentacles shove down the front his trousers, ripping the seams, bursting open and with a sudden horror he realizes their target. A particularly dextrous tentacle coils around his cock and begins _massaging_ , squeeze-stroking, as another one - slimmer - plays with the tip, teasing the slit. Wrathion howls, arching his back and trying to get free, hoping that shedding this human form will do the trick, but he can’t release it, and more tentacles are slapping him back, seeking his sensitive spots along his sides and chest, finding his nipples and twisting them until he’s biting back tears. It hurts. It feels so damn good. It _hurts_. N’zoth is doing everything it can to make him lose control. He’s wet, he’s leaking, dripping hard, tentacle milking him and another one under his balls, rubbing slowly between them and his hole. 

“NO!” he manages to gasp, wishing it sounded more commanding, wanting it to be a yell, even a scream, anything except this breathy whimper, before his mouth is plugged by yet another tentacle. He bites down, all his teeth in fangs, and a burst of viscous black liquid bleeds into his mouth and down his chin. He spits and gags and tries not to swallow any of it as the tentacle slithers back, but suddenly a different one from behind him coils around his neck, choking him, squeezing off his air supply. It chokes, then releases, allowing him just enough to stay conscious, and he suddenly feels another tentacle push inside him from behind. It’s wet, slick, probably the one he bit, and it _hurts_. He’s spread wide against the obelisk, forced to take the tentacle deeper and deeper until it feels like it’s going to rip him open from inside his intestines. It shoves in and pushes him into the tentacle around his cock, which is now using its suckers to apply a rotational sucking from all directions. The mixture of pain and pleasure is mind-numbing, and Wrathion _sobs_ , hips jerking unrelentingly forward, N’zoth’s tentacles urging, coaxing, voices whispering in his ear _let go, just let go, give in_ , and he quivers, fights it off, bites it back by the skin of his teeth. 

_YOU CANNOT SAVE THEM FROM ME._

_YOU CANNOT SAVE_ HIM _FROM ME_. 

Wrathion screams as a vision of Anduin drops to his knees before him, naked, every scar in place, a perfect duplicate. He looks shy, scared, nervous, like the first time they fooled around, and he sticks out his little pink tongue to lap at the tip of Wrathion’s straining cock - 

He comes so hard his vision actually goes dark. The voices in his ears are Anduin’s, moaning his name over and over, breathy gasps of it, pleading for him. It was just a vision. It was just a dream. He’s still in the room on his feet, clothes intact, hearing spells zing past his head, a growing wet patch in his pants. 

_YOU ARE MINE. MINE, FOREVER. I WILL NEVER LET YOU GO. NEVER AGAIN._

He’s shaking when he stands in Anduin’s doorway. The young king comes over to him immediately. It’s been a long, long day, and though the fight is over, it feels like he’s still in the fray. His adrenaline has been what kept him going through the entire time, and it appears to have finally burnt itself out. 

Anduin catches him before he falls, and Wrathion feels shame, embarrassment and _shame_ as Anduin drags him to the four-poster, bundling him beneath the sheets, sitting next to him and stroking his hair. 

“I’m not a child. Get off of me.” Wrathion fusses, batting at Anduin’s hand. His friend and lover smiles sadly, fingers coming down to stroke his cheek below his ear. Wrathion turns his head, looking away. Anduin doesn’t remove his hand. “I don’t want your pity.” 

“How about just my love, then?” Anduin asks softly, breaking the touch only to lay down, resting his head on the pillow. “They’re all downstairs, it’s just the two of us in here. You’re safe. I promise.” 

“We’re not safe.” Wrathion grumbles, and he feels Anduin’s breath, a soft giggle against the back of his neck. 

“Well, relatively speaking, we’re safe.” Anduin murmurs. “Do you want me to touch you?” 

Wrathion squirms, but at least he turns on his back and looks at Anduin beside him. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” 

“Do you want to touch _me_?” 

“Yes. I know that, for certain.” he finally rolls to his side, facing Anduin. The human’s face is lined with concern, but also hope. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you think I’m better than I am. I swore I wouldn’t break, that I couldn’t be broken, and yet N’zoth managed to manipulate me. For all our spells and protection, I couldn’t stop from becoming corrupted.” 

“You came back,” Anduin reminds him. “You’re my friend, Wrathion, and I love you. You know I mean that. I’m so happy that you came back, the first time, _and_ the second time. I didn’t think you were going to stay. I’d like it if you stayed…” 

“We’ll have to see.” Wrathion reaches out a hand, cups Anduin’s cheek. Anduin smiles again. _Gods he’s beautiful when he smiles. He should smile more often._ “I’m a very busy dragon.” 

“Busy with what? Another end of the world?” Anduin huffs softly, then closes his eyes. “I’m tired. I don’t want to be alone tonight. Can you stay in bed with me? Just until morning.” 

Wrathion glares, but Anduin can’t see it with his eyelids down like that. He knows it’s _Wrathion_ who doesn’t want to be alone right now, alone with his thoughts, his horrible thoughts and twisted memories of Ny’alotha and everything in the Black Empire. He knows it’s _Wrathion_ who wants to stay in the bed with him, with that warmth, with someone he trusts not to betray him. 

It was he who betrayed Anduin. Wrathion is responsible for so much. 

He refuses to believe that Anduin has forgiven him, but perhaps, just perhaps, there is a little tiny bit of Anduin that still wants to believe in his old friend, and that little piece of him, Wrathion can accept, can go to, can cling to, in this time of need. 

And he is so very, very needy right now. 

He wants to surge forward and capture Anduin’s lips in his, wants to wrap him tightly in his arms, wants to undress him and claim his body in kisses and bites, wants to fuck him into the mattress and make him scream so loud the entire city hears him. 

But Anduin is sleeping, a peaceful smile on his face, and Wrathion wouldn’t wake him for the world. 

And so he curls up against his tiny, precious, fragile human, who is still somehow stronger than entire armies combined, and lets himself rest. 

_Please, let me be yours. Forever. I never want you to let me go. Never again._


End file.
